


don't you dare

by mythic_bitch_0



Series: bare: flashbacks [4]
Category: bare: A Pop Opera - Hartmere/Intrabartolo
Genre: Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythic_bitch_0/pseuds/mythic_bitch_0
Summary: things change fast when the love of your life is a fellow catholic schoolboy. tw for internalized homophobia and homophobic language.





	don't you dare

**Author's Note:**

> another flashback scene from the bare novelization, takes place a month or so after they first get together.

 

February, sophomore year

* * *

 

Peter and Jason are sitting under one of the trees in the courtyard. They're discussing their various extra curriculars - Peter is considering doing the spring play, and Lucas and Matt are trying to talk him out of and into it, respectively 

“Theater,” Jason says directly, “is for fags.”

Matt and Lucas laugh, not taking him seriously - Matt has been doing the plays the last few years, and he'll probably get the  _ lead _ this year, but he knows better than to take Jason's teasing words seriously. 

They're already moving onto discussing the various merits of the play, versus a musical, versus doing a sport of some kind when Peter announces he has to leave. His palms are marred with white crescents, marking the flame of anger that flared in his chest when he heard that mocking word come out of Jason's mouth.

“You coming, Jason?” he asks, forcing himself to be calm

Jason stretches against the tree, cracking his neck. “Nah. I'll meet up with you later,” he says casually, not even looking Peter in the eyes.

Peter's hands shake as he walks away.

-

Peter is white hot with anger. How dare he? How  _ dare _ he?

When he storms into the dorm room they share, Jason is sitting at his desk, working on Latin, it looks like. With a boiling fury he didn't even think he possessed - and it can't be directed at Jason, can it? - Peter stalks over to the desk and swipes everything off it. Jason's books, his meticulous notes, cascade to the ground, and the unrehearsed shock on Jason's face is almost funny in its surprise.

“What the - you can't just - ”

“Fucking  _ watch _ me,” Peter spits, so angry he's shaking. 

Jason's eyes are dark with anger now too, and he draws himself up to his full height - several inches taller than Peter, but Peter is fearless. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” Jason hisses.

For the first time ever, ever, ever in their lives, Peter reaches a hand up to slap Jason's face instead of stroke it, but he stops himself and instead knots the fabric in his hands. “Don't you  _ ever _ say that to me again.”

“What?” Jason cries, surprise and hurt mixing with his anger. 

“ _ Fag _ . Don't you  _ dare _ \- ”

Jason covers Peter’s hands with his own, his brain practically whirring to try to keep up with this so-unexpected anger. “I - what? I didn't call  _ you _ a fag! I just meant - ”

“Oh, no,  _ I'm _ not a fag - just people who like the things I like!” Peter retorts, his voice horrible and sarcastic. 

“We were in public,” Jason pleads. “I had to - ”

“ _ I don't care!” _ Peter shouts, and then forces himself to lower his voice. “I. Do. Not. Care. If I act too _gay_ for you in public, Jason - ”

Panic crosses Jason's face. “Peter. Peter, no, wait. We just agreed to keep everything quiet - we have to keep it a secret - ”

Jason hates this. Peter is gentle and quiet and always forgiving of him and his reticence, gently coaxing and caressing him when he needs it. This white-hot demeanor is the most unsettling thing Jason thinks he has ever seen.

“There is a big difference,” Peter says, cold as ice, “between keeping  _ us _ a secret. And calling me a fag in public.”

Jason is suddenly filled with shame so great he has to hold onto his desk as he staggers under the weight of it. “I - I'm sorry.”

Peter pushes him away roughly. “I am not a  _ fag _ . Theater is not for  _ fags _ .”

“I didn't think,” Jason says softly, regret in his eyes. “I was just trying to, to seem - I don't want to seem suspicious. I want them to think -”

“You need to care about what I think, too,” Peter snaps, and Jason bows his head with the truth of it. 

"Find another way to act straight,” Peter tells him, his eyes still blazing. “You don't - don't you say that  _ ever again _ .”

“I won't,” Jason assures him, and he reaches his arms out to envelope Peter, who shrugs them off. “Please,” Jason tries.

After a long moment, Peter turns around, some of the fury gone from his eyes. “I  _ want _ to be with you, Jason. I want to be with you because I'm  _ gay _ .”

After all, they've spent most of the past few months spending every single spare moment kissing and caressing. But at the sound of that phrase on Peter's lips, Jason can't help but cringe.  _ I'm gay _ .

“You can hate it all you want,” Peter says, trying to find that anger again, but the stricken look on Jason's face makes it difficult. “But I don't. It's who I am. Who we  _ both _ are.”

“I…” Jason starts, but trails off. The broken look on his face feels like glass shards in Peter's heart, and so this time he allows the embrace, allows himself to bury his face in Jason's neck, to give him the opportunity to say what he wants without having to look him in the eye.

“I don't hate it,” Jason admits. “I'm just...I'm scared. But I don't hate it.”

Jason tugs Peter over towards his bed and pulls him up - Christ, he's strong - so that Peter is straddling his lap. It's broad daylight, and they have never yet been this bold.

The room crackles with electricity, with possibility, and they both reach in at the same time for a kiss - bruising at first, almost biting, the vestiges of anger finally melting away and leaving behind only tenderness.

They're both hard - it doesn't take much these days - when Jason stops for a moment. 

“I don't hate this,” Jason repeats, forcing himself to slow down, to savor these words, because the truth is there is nothing in his life he loves more, values more, than these stolen moments with Peter Simmonds.

“I know,” Peter mumbles, and he drags his fingers over the hard length in Jason's lap, causing them to both gasp and seek each other out.

“No,” Jason says urgently, pinning Peter's dark green eyes with his blue ones, because Peter needs to know. He needs to  _ know _ \- he can't lose him. “I'm sorry. I won't - I never will again.”

Peter rests his head against Jason's for a moment. He can feel himself wanting to believe, wishing, hoping that Jason means what he's saying, means that he won't - won't  _ say _ this, won't think this.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” Jason says again, repeating it like a chant as they resume their kissing, and Peter, emboldened, dizzy with lust and the most exquisitely painful tendrils of hope, kisses the regret from his swollen lips.


End file.
